244. Chapter 244

AU After Recoil

By

UCSBdad

Disclaimer: How would it recoil on me if I claimed to own Castle? Rating: K Time: See above.

Author's note: We learned in Driven that Bracken is in prison, so this is AU. Also, this would really make a better AU After Veritas story, but I thought of it now and so I'll write it now. I'll just have to think of something else for when I get to Veritas.

The lawyer was quite confident. "Bill, you have nothing to worry about. I mean, look at the so called evidence they have against you. A tape recording that was hidden on the desk of some obsessed cop for years? Can anyone testify where it came from or how long it's been there? And the tape itself? Three dirty cops, all conveniently dead, are talking to someone who is purported to be you."

The lawyer stopped and thought for a second. "Come to think of it, that detective, Beckett, was nearby at the killings of Montgomery, Raglan and McCallister, wasn't she? We can make something of that." He made a note on a pad of paper.

Senator Bracken leaned in. "Jim, this is serious. I'm not some random guy being framed by some psycho cop. I'm planning a run for the presidency. I don't need to just win this, I need to prove to people that this is all a plot by my enemies."

Jim nodded. "That's a political problem, Bill. You should look into handling that. It's what you do."

Both men exchanged a smile.

"I have several teams of the best forensic audio specialists in the world going over those tapes, Bill. By the time they're done with that tape, no one will believe a word of it."

There was a knock at the door and a secretary stuck her head in the office. "Sir, if I can have a word with you?"

The lawyer looked displeased. "Jill, I told you that I was not to be disturbed."

"I think you'll want to see this, sir."

The lawyer smiled at Senator Bracken. "Bill, will you excuse me?"

Ten minutes later the lawyer was back in his office with Senator Bracken. "Bill, I'm afraid there's a problem. The check for two million dollars you gave us to start things has bounced."

"What?" Bracken bellowed as he shot to his feet. "That's impossible!"

"Bill, I called the bank myself. The manager told me the account was closed yesterday."

Bracken pulled out his cell phone. "I'll soon get this straightened out."

Bracken called the president of the bank, and, after an hour or so, the bank president confirmed that all bank accounts for Bracken had been closed on orders from Bracken's Washington office the day before and that all of the paperwork for the electronic funds transfer was correct. The withdrawal of the cash had been completely legal.

"Someone screwed up in my office in DC, Jim. I'll get this straightened out and get back to you."

Four days earlier.

"Thank you for seeing me and my client on such short notice, Agent Shaw."

Jordan Shaw leaned back in her chair and smiled. "Anything to do with Senator Bracken these days gets the FBI's attention pretty quickly. Why exactly did you want to see me?"

"My name is Chuck Gordon. I'm the chief operating officer of Orantis Solutions. I have evidence that Senator William Bracken ordered the murders of Johanna Beckett, Roy Montgomery, the attempt on the life of Detective Kate Beckett, and the murders of John Raglan and Gary McCallister. In addition he laundered money to pay for these, committed fraud to cover up the funds transfers, and violated federal election laws. All of the information is in this suitcase. In return, I want to go into witness protection."

Shaw thought carefully. "I'll have to call in someone from the Department of Justice. Someone high ranking. Can you wait for a few hours?"

Gordon nodded.

Two hours later Deputy Attorney General Ledford and a number of DOJ lawyers sat down with Gordon. Jordan Show was relegated to the background.

"May I ask you why you chose to come forth now?" Ledford asked.

Gordon smiled. "It seemed best." Especially since that cold blooded bastard has a habit of killing off anyone who's a danger to him and I lost contact with my best asset the other day. There could only be one reason for that.

Ledford nodded. "The Attorney General has agreed. If your evidence is as advertised, you go to witness protection. Okay? But we need to see the evidence first."

Gordon and his lawyer exchanged glances. "Agreed."

Much later Ledford looked across the table at Gordon. "Welcome to witness protection, Mr. Gordon."

Outside, Elena Markov carefully watched the car that Gordon and his attorney had arrived in. Given the time they had been inside the FBI building, it was doubtlessly too late to grab the documents and kill the two men. She nodded to herself, started her car and drove off.

Three days earlier.

"Hal, he's going down. I have a pal in the FBI. He told me that Gordon went to them with enough evidence to put the Senator away forever. Worse, Jerry Roybal went to the FBI's New York office with even more evidence. The rats are deserting the sinking ship, my friend. We have to get out of here."

Hal shook his head. "How? We don't have anything like the evidence those two killers have. We've got no options."

"We do have an option. You're authorized to make withdrawals from the Senator's bank accounts. The legal ones anyway. There are millions, tens of millions, there. We need to take the money and run."

"How? We don't have all of the account numbers or the security codes, or anything."

The other man held up a small notebook. "Well, isn't it lucky that one of us is devious?"

Hal shook his head. "Do you know what will happen to us if he finds out?"

"Do you know what will happen to us is we don't take this chance? Do you want to go to prison? We're accessories to everything, Hal. Everything. How would you like life in prison?"

Hal sighed. "What do we need to do?"

Once back in Washington, DC, Bracken found that two of his most trusted subordinates were nowhere to be found and that all of his legal funds were long gone. Worse, since he had authorized Hal to make withdrawals, the bank accepted no responsibility for the loss. Bracken had threatened to sue, but that hadn't seemed to worry the bank president.

He drove to the offices of the Fund for the Future.

"Paul, I need money. At least five million and I need it right now."

Paul shook his head slowly. "Bill, be reasonable."

"Be reasonable?" Bracken barked. "I got you the damned money, every cent of it. It pays for your inflated salary, for your life style, and may I remind you, it pays for very young girls who come to visit you quite frequently. I need the damned money and I need it now."

Paul smiled. "I'm not trying to screw you, Bill. Believe me. But since this broke I've had Feds up the ass. If I hand you a check for five million or give you five million in cash, they'll be all over you and you'll have one more problem. Give me seventy two hours and I'll have your money for you. Completely safe and anonymously. It'll be months before your trial comes up. Don't panic now and screw things up."

Bracken nodded. "Seventy two hours."

Paul smiled and nodded.

Seventy two hours later Bracken called Paul's office.

An unknown woman answered. "Who are you and why are you calling?" She demanded.

Bracken thought quickly. "Rocco. I'm Mr. Donaldson's driver. He isn't where he wanted me to pick him up. Is he there?"

"No. He's disappeared." Said the woman.

"Who am I talking to?"

"Special Agent Jordan Shaw, FBI."

Bracken quickly hung up.

The next day, a shabbily dressed man in sunglasses walked into a bank in suburban Richmond, Virginia. "I'm John Hanning. I need to get into my safe deposit box."

"Certainly, Mr. Hanning."

Once he had the box. Bracken opened it and cursed. The box was empty. The false identification documents, the money, and the gun that should be there were gone.

Two days and five banks later, Bracken headed for upstate New York. He drove to a small, weather beaten house that could not be connected to him in any way. He went inside and began knocking a hole in the kitchen wall. Inside he found what he needed. The driver's license was expired as was the passport, but he had one hundred thousand dollars and a Colt .32.

That night Bracken slept in a cheap motel in New Jersey. As he climbed into bed, he vowed that he'd make everyone pay for what they had done to him. William H. Bracken was not done, not by a longshot.

Later that night, Bracken was woken by a bright light shining in his eyes. A rough voice said, "I have something for you from Joe Pulgatti."

And William Bracken was no more.